Mannix hesitated, and his eyes seemed to grow even smaller, like those of a man thinking rapidly.
"Certainly not!" he replied, with belated emphasis. "Not at all. Nothing of the kind." He raised both hands in protest against the thought. Then he asked furtively: "What gave you such an idea?"
"I have been told," explained Markham, "that she had extorted money from one or two of her admirers."
Mannix made a wholly unconvincing grimace of astonishment.
"Well, well! You don't tell me! Can it be possible?" He peered shrewdly at the District Attorney. "Maybe it was Charlie Cleaver she blackmailed—yes?"
Markham picked him up quickly.
"Why do you say Cleaver?"
Again Mannix waved his thick hand, this time deprecatingly.
"No special reason, y' understand. Just thought it might be him. . . . No special reason."
"Did Cleaver ever tell you he'd been blackmailed?"
"Cleaver tell me? . . . Now, I ask you, Mr. Markham: why should Cleaver tell me such a story—why should he?"
"And you never told Cleaver that the Odell girl had blackmailed you?"
"Positively not!" Mannix gave a scornful laugh which was far too theatrical to have been genuine. "Me tell Cleaver I'd been blackmailed? Now, that's funny, that is."
"Then why did you mention Cleaver a moment ago?"
